


Captured by the Elvenking

by Sleeping_Warrior_Panda



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Captive, Elves, F/M, Kind of time travel, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Pre-The Hobbit, Prison, Reader-Insert, Reader/Thranduil - Freeform, Time Travel, at least at first, kind of dub-con, maybe around the non-con area, prisoner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleeping_Warrior_Panda/pseuds/Sleeping_Warrior_Panda
Summary: You're on your way to work when suddenly, at the blink of an eye, you're standing in front of the imposing entrance of Mirkwood with no idea how you got there or how you'll get back.The situation takes a turn for the worse when you're found by the elves of Mirkwood and brought to the Elvenking.The King of the Woodland Realm takes a fancy to you, and all of the sudden, finding your way back home is the least of your problems. First you must escape the watchful eye of your captor without letting your growing attraction and feelings towards the Elvenking get in the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
> Hi everyone!
> 
> I've seen the Hobbit movies (and of course Lord of the Rings) and read up a bit about Thranduil and the Mirkwood elves,  
> but I'm not an expert and this is probably not as canon as it should be. Please take it for what it is. :)
> 
> Apparently Thranduil in the movies are a lot more... stern? Cold? Than his book counterpart,  
> so I've tried to portray him more like how he's in the books.
> 
> Also, I want to warn people right of the bat, that there will be some... _dub-con_ (at best) in the story.  
> I hesitate to call it all out rape but it's definitely in some kind of grey area, since it's not a 100% consensual.  
> So I thought it best to be on the safe side and use ALL the tags. ^^
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **************************
> 
>   
> 
>  

 

 

 

Maybe it's the four restless hours of sleep you barely managed last night or the three cups of coffee you forced down this morning?  
Maybe it's a combination of both? Either way, this is the most vivid dream or hallucination you've ever had.  
  
Staying unmoving for several seconds, you're just gawking at the imposing sight. In front of you lies a vast forest with trees towering over you like gigantic pillars, seemingly forming a hostile wall to keep intruders out.  
Some of the trees have trunks as thick as the length of a car, none of them seem small enough for you to wrap your arms around, and their gnarly branches loop and twist towards the sky, reaching so far that they block out the sun.  
  
You've never seen anything like it before.  
  
Even though you're telling yourself this isn't real, can't possibly be, you can't shake the feeling that you're wrong. But that's crazy. You've _just_ sat down on the bus, on your way to another tedious shift at the fast-food joint downtown, being nowhere near a forest. You live in the city!  
  
You must've fallen asleep on the bus. Right. That's must be it. It wouldn't be the first time. Though it's the first time any dream has come through this crystal clear...  
  
Noticing that there are no sounds and no wind, it should confirm what you already _know_ , but it does nothing to calm you.  
  
Maybe you've finally cracked? The stress of falling behind on bills, being harassed by dissatisfied customers at work and getting your hours cut for the third time over a period of less than four months, getting you at last?  
  
_Maybe this is what a meltdown looks like from the wrong side of the fence._  
  
Pinching yourself in the arm, you wince at the dull pain. Well, what did you expect? Does that 'trick' even work? Shaking your head irritated with yourself, you realize, as seconds turns to minutes, that just standing here won't help.  
  
Peering in between the trees, trying to see further than your eyesight allows, you notice how dark the forest is. No, not _dark_. That's an inadequate word to describe it. It's like a black hole swallowing any light that tries to break through the darkness.  
And if that isn't enough, you can feel the presence of something... as if the trees themselves are watching you with hungry eyes, wanting to devour you. It's like a heavy blanket weighing you down. It sends a involuntarily shiver down your spine.  
  
Even though a part of you screams _danger_ , you still turn your back towards the creepy forest to take in the rest of your surroundings.  
And almost wish you hadn't.  
Behind you is a dried-up field spanning infinity. Nothing else. No trees, houses, no people, nothing. Just the flat yellow and brown dead field.  
  
Right. So your choices are between a guaranteed death-march over the field with no end in sight or the scary forest that will probably turn out to be haunted. Lovely.  
  
Though you've no choice. You can't just stay here. If this is in some strange way _not_ a dream, you need to find help. And you'd rather take your chances in the forest.  
  
Approaching the entrance of the forest you notice a narrow passage made of stones, slinking it's way forward like a snake, cutting a path through the wilderness.  
Someone's made this; it's not the work of mother nature. That means there must be people nearby. And people equals help.  
  
Encouraged by the thought you follow the path somewhat put at ease, but still on your guard. In such a large forest, who knows what kind of predators might live here? 

 

************  
  
  
  


What's probably several hours later, you’re definitely lost. Not that you know how it's possible to be "lost", when never having been "on track" in the first place, since "being on track" would imply that you've an idea where you're heading.  
Following the man-made trail, hoping it would lead the right way, you must've taken the wrong turn somewhere, finding that you've wandered so far from the path that you can't find it again.

Throat dry and feet aching, you're miserably trying to find any sight of the path or of people. You don't know if it's nearing nightfall or not, the canopy’s so thick it shuts out almost all natural light.  
And it's abnormally quiet. Every little sound's so faint in your ears, as if it's being muffled.

Stumbling upon a stream of water, you fall down on your knees beside it. Even though your lips are dry and cracked from lack of moisture, you don't dare drink, not wanting to risk catching some dangerous bacteria and getting sick.  
But sitting so close to temptation's doing strange things to your mind. The sound of the tinkling water is deafening and you're salivating at the mere thought of sating your thirst.  
  
No, no you shouldn't. It's better to get a move on.

Stumbling away from the stream, you decide to continue in the same direction as before. Looking about you, you realize that you've forgotten what way you came from. Everything looks the same.

"Damn it." The sound of your voice seems to be unnaturally loud in the strange quiet air.

Stomach growling aggressively, you desperately try to keep your mind off of food. It's not helping right now.  
At that moment you're distracted by something glittering in the distance. What's that? You squint, trying to make it out. Can it be binoculars reflecting the sunlight? Maybe there's people over there!

Regaining some strength at the very thought of finding help, you quicken your steps and march towards the light. But every time you get closer, suddenly the light seems further away. 

You're tired, legs shaking and energy depleted. You're not getting any closer to the light and you've walked even further into the forest than you'd planned. Maybe you should've chosen the field instead.

Catching eye of a large pile of leaves, you decide to rest a while. Just for a little while. But the pile's so soft and you're too exhausted.  
Soon, you're in a deep sleep. 

 

************  
  
  
  


It all happened so fast. It's just a blur that you're still trying to make sense of.

You've must've slept for quite some time, lying in that pile of leaves, because when you woke up the forest was even darker than before.  
Figuring that it was night-time, or at least late evening, you realized that it was useless to wander any further until next morning.  
  
That's when reality hits you; this is not a dream.  
  
Thirsty, hungry and dejected, you almost started crying, certain that you'd die in this place. You're a city-woman born and bred, with no survival skills. You don't even know how to make a fire. And that lack of knowledge was the reason that you were sitting there, shivering from the cold.

But fortunately ( or _unfortunately_ , depending on how this is going to end ) you were found as a group of four men, oddly dressed, descended upon you from all directions.  
At first you were relieved, wanting to hug and kiss them, convinced that they'd saved you from certain death. But that sheer unbridled joy was immediately thwarted, as you noticed that they carried weapons. Knives, swords, bows and arrows, to be more exact.  
  
The tendrils of fear wrapped around you, as you tried to rationalize it. Maybe they're hunters? 

Not knowing if they were really the help that you'd been hoping for, or if you'd fallen into the hands of psychopaths, you'd just stared at them, too scared to say anything.  
  
One of the men spoke to you rapidly, in a language you've never heard before. When he didn't get an answer, another man dragged you onto your feet. Your whole body aching, you grimaced at the ungentle treatment.  
This is where the infamous "fight-or-flight" response should've kicked in. But you turned completely stiff, not knowing what to do.

The Ungentle One pushed you forward, cruel grey eyes fixated on you.

You asked who they are, where they're from, what they want. But they answered none of your questions. That's when the spell of fear reduced you to pleading with them. But nothing helped. Their faces could've been made out of stone as they showed no emotion.

They forced you forward, all five of you soon marching through the forest. You walked much slower than they did, stumbling several times in the darkness on tree roots and rocks, unused to such an uneven surface. Afraid that they might hurt you for lagging behind, you did your best to try and keep pace. But the men merely adjusted their speed to match yours without a word.

It had probably been hours of walking when one of the men stopped you and pointed to the ground. And that is where you're sitting right now, watching the men closely, afraid of what their purpose might be.  
  
The man who had you sit, hands you a waterskin. Not daring to refuse, you take it from him with shaking hands. He gestures for you to drink.  
You hesitate, not knowing what's inside. What if it's poison? Or some kind of drug?  
  
His hand moves closely to a hunting knife strapped in his belt, resting there in a relaxed sort of way, but it might as well be a subtle threat.  
Afraid that he'll use it on you if you don't do as he wants, you take a sip. Thankfully, as soon as the liquid hits your taste buds, you realize it's water.  
  
Drinking eagerly, you quench your thirst before the man can try to take it back. You don't know when you'll have the chance to drink again.  
But the man doesn't try to retrieve the waterskin. Instead he goes off to speak quietly with one of the other men. Mentally you dub the man bringing you water 'the Kind One'.  
  
At least you won't die of thirst. But maybe you'll regret it, depending on what their plans are. Or maybe they're helping you? Leading you through the forest? You don't know, but for now there's nothing you can do other than obey.

Now that you have a chance to rest and study them, you realize just how odd they look. They're exceptionally tall and slim with fitted clothes in a variety of green, brown and black tones, and all of them have long straight hair in different brown hues. You're not used to seeing men with hair flowing down over their shoulders, and definitely not four of them at the same time.  
  
Two of them have quivers with arrows on their back, whereof one of them is the Kind One and the other is the Ungentle One, the other two have a sword each, strapped to their sides. Who goes hunting with a sword? Bow and arrow you can understand, since even though you're a city-woman, you've still seen bow and arrows being sold in stores for hunters.

 _They can't be trusted,_ a voice whispers in your head. 

But really, what choice do you have? Even if you can run away from them, the forest is _huge_. You'd die here anyway.

Soon the group's on the move again, and it seems they only stopped so you could rest a while. Your whole body's aching from the ordeal, but you force yourself to keep going.

 

************  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

You're certain that your legs will give up any minute now. You're exhausted beyond belief, whilst the men show no signs of being tired.  
During the long quiet march the darkness had been chased away by the faint light of day, only to be replaced when the shadows of evening crept closer once again. How much further are you going to walk?

Something moves in your peripheral vision. Expecting to see an animal, you turn your head to catch sight of it, but there's nothing there.  
Odd. You could've sworn something stirred in the bushes. Maybe it was a deer that ran and hid or a bird that flew away?  
  
You walk another couple of minutes, and then, a rustle to the right of you. Again you turn, only to be met with more nothing.  
Not believing it to be an animal anymore, a shiver runs runs down your spine. Whatever it is, it's watching you. You're sure of it.  
  
Frowning, you're starting to wonder if the forest really _is_ haunted. But then the Kind One has mercy on you, catching your eye and then glancing upwards. Following his line of sight, you gasp.  
  
The treetops are _alive._  
  
The gigantic trees are home to large huts, though you hesitate to call them such. The structures are simply too beautiful and elegant to be described with such a inadequate word. They're very open with no windows or doors that you can see with the naked eye, allowing for an unobstructed view of the nature for anyone living there.  
  
Several of the buildings blend into the forest, as if they have been built out from the thick trunks of the trees themselves, branches reaching around to embrace the man-made forest-dwellings.  
These are not, however, made out of unpainted, unadorned wood akin to what one might expect to find in the forest. No, they seem to beam with a subdued white light, reminding you of the light of the millions, or trillions, small diamonds scattered over the night sky.  
  
The sight simply breath-taking, it takes a while for you to realize that there are several "floors" of these buildings, though they don't seem to have been arranged in any particular pattern. The lowest placed buildings appears to be some thirty feet (aprox. 9 meters) above ground, and the highest one more than six hundred feet up (>182 meters).  
The higher up the placement, the larger and more extravagant they seem to become, though you can't know for sure, since there's no chance of making out the ones at the very top.  
  
There are simple narrow bridges of wooden planks dangling from tree to tree, to allow for easy travel between the buildings.  
Your breath hitches when you see the bridges sway slightly. Who in their right mind would dare walk around up there? What if they fall down?  
  
However, there's no denying the fact that this isn't the folly of a handful of people; but from the look of it, it's the home of hundreds, if not more. The size of a small town. 

Finally you notice the people, though many of them do a good job of blending in with their environment. Dozens of them are standing on small wooden platforms just outside what you assume are their homes, watching your tiny group on the ground with unhidden curiosity.  
  
What little you can see of your audience, they appear to be dressed like the four men who brought you here. All of them have long flowing hair, quite unpractical, in your opinion, but beautiful all the same.  
  
A few of them has stopped on their way over the beforementioned bridges, seemingly uncaring about their own safety, as their gazes are drawn to you. There're even a couple of children in the trees, playing close to the edges with the carefree attitude of the adults.  
  
You're so caught up in staring back at the tree-people, fascinated not only by them, but by the glimpse of this strange but captivating place, that you don't even notice stopping in your tracks. At least, that's until you're roughly brought back from your thoughts when the Ungentle One gives you a small shove with his hand, motioning you to go on.

This is obviously not their destination. You're not sure if you should be relieved or worried.

 

************  
  
  


  
Not far away from the town of the tree-people, the deafening sound of raging water breaks the unnatural silence of the forest.

Through the foliage you catch a glimpse of a violent river, cascading down what appears to be the side of rugged foothill of some hidden mountain. Water crashes against the rocky riverbank, spilling over the tree roots penetrating the boulders of stone; the unrelenting tendrils of the forest reaching even such an inhospitable place.

Your group approaching the river with determined steps, it's obvious that the end goal's on the other side. Your heart starts beating faster. You'll soon know why they've taken you.

When close enough that you can almost feel the spray of water on your skin, a solid bridge emerges. It's built high over the rushing water, a beautiful arch of grey stone, its beginning and end seamlessly melting into the riverbanks.  
  
At first the bridge appears narrow, but when you step out on the smooth stone, you realize it's broad enough to allow four people to walk side by side. Still, it does little to quell the fear in you, as the bridge lacks railing and it would only take a shove from one of the men to have you falling down, head first, to your death.  
  
But that thought is soon banished from your mind, as you stare at what awaits you on the other side.  
  
You're walking directly towards what appears to be some underground mine. The entrance consists of a huge facade carved out of the stone by skilled hands, encompassed by ornate sky-reaching pillars, placed in the shape of a half-moon. The pillars emulate, in appearance, trees; all of them carefully sculptured to have twisted roots spreading down the ground.  
  
The river's not very broad, so you cross the bridge quickly. Close enough to the pillars, you fixate your gaze on one of them, as it doesn't seem to be carved out of stone but out of living wood. Is that even possible?  
  
The group stops briefly in front of a narrow, tall, gate, painted in the colour of the sky. Two men stand guard on each side, dressed in armour the same colour as the pillars. After a quick word exchange with the Ungentle One, they nod and allow the group to go forward.

Body tense, readying yourself for what you might face inside the cave, you reluctantly follow with a shaky breath.  
  
_Come on, Y/N! One foot in front of the other. Don't give them a reason to hurt you._

Not that you know that they would. But you don't want to make yourself anymore of a target than you already are. Obviously, the Ungentle One doesn't like you. And even if the Kind One hasn't hurt you yet, you don't know if he'd stand up for you if the others tries anything.  
  
Better to do as they say. For now.

One of the men walks in front of you. Staring at his broad shoulders that blocks most of your view of the cave, dread claws its way through you, making it hard to breathe. Your imagination's running rampant. Are you're going to be sacrificed in some ritual? Are you going to a torture chamber? Will they try to ransom you?  
  
Tearing your eyes from the man in front of you, you throw a quick glance at the man beside you. At first, it was somewhat comforting to have the Kind One at your side. But for every step you take, you're becoming more and more anxious. He doesn't acknowledge your presence at all. No more kind gestures. It reinforces your fear that he'd probably not protect you against the others.  
  
The last two men, including the Ungentle One, are at your back. To make sure that you can't escape, you guess. Not that that's a possibility, as you hear the large gate closing behind you.  
  
Even though you're shut inside the cave, it doesn't turn dark as you might've expected. There're large lamps hanging from pillars on either side of the path you walk, illuminating the way with a gentle golden light.  
  
There's another bridge to cross but this time there's no river underneath, only hard, cold, flattened rocks. You're surrounded by stone both from below and above, but you don't feel trapped. The cave's so spacious, it's like a arena. You can barely glimpse the ceiling, not even truly sure that there _is_ a ceiling, or just the night sky.  
  
The walls are covered in lush green moss, and so is most of the ground as well. It looks like grass and gives the appearance of still being outside, in the forest. It's beautiful and unsettling at the same time.  
  
Everywhere are man-made paths of stone, and stairs leading both up and down the cave, though you don't know where any of them lead.  
Armed guards are patrolling beneath you; women dressed in silk dawdling along never-ending stairs spiralling above you; a couple of men laughing as they disappear into an arched entrance to the right of you.  
  
You're trying to take it all in while you're steered down one of the paths; but there's just too much to look at.  
  
This isn't just a cave. _People live here._  
  


 

************  
  
  


  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> First of all, before anyone comments on it; I _know_ it's an elk, not a deer. But the reader doesn't. Yet.
> 
> I also want to forewarn you guys that I'm having health issues right now and I have a newborn. So I have very little time  
> on my hands. I'm still going to write and update when possible, but it won't be as frequent as I’d hoped.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this new chapter and please know that I won't abandon this story. I will add bit by bit when I have the time! :)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *********************** 
> 
>  

 

Going through the maze that is the cave, you're lead down a narrow, curved road, which you suspect isn't truly a road at all.  
It appears to be a large fallen tree cut in half vertically, the rings of age hinted at under your feet. But if it is, it's a very tall and strangely formed tree, the likes of which you've never seen before.  
You've no time to stop and look closer at this oddity however, and really, it's not important enough to distract you from the anxiety tearing inside of you.

In the distance you can make out what looks like the antlers of a huge deer, seemingly mounted on a wall and looming over a pedestal of some kind. What is that? You crane your neck, trying to see more.  
Whatever it is, it's placed on a dais and is obviously the focus point of this part of the cave and so it must be important. The antlers seem to dominate the area, so it might be some kind of trophy room. A place for the hunters to display their prey? 

As your group come closer and closer to the dais, making it clear that's where you're headed, you're starting to feel ill at ease.  
If it's a trophy room, why are they taking a hostage there? 

Glancing up towards the ceiling as you carefully ascend a stair of some length, your eyes dance over the exceptionally tall and magnificent pillars reaching impossibly high. Originating from somewhere far below, the pillars rise around the dais, hugging it on all sides, and embraces one another in elegant arches high above.  
Warm, soft light caresses the structure like a lover's hand, creating the illusion of glimmering gold embedded in the stone.

It's breathtakingly beautiful.

Glancing at the man beside you, the one you named the Kind One, you notice that he's turned stiff. There's a slight tension in the air, almost like reverence. Is this a holy place for them? A temple of sorts?

The men herding you forward are moving quietly and gracefully like predators, and a horrific thought flashes across your mind.  
Almost at the dais now, your heart's beating hard as if trying to burst through its prison of flesh, and sweat's running down your lower back.  
It's starting to resemble a kind of... _altar_ , isn't it?  
  
You don't even have to be a fan of horror movies to know that when an altar's involved, that _never_ bodes well. You're almost expecting to see  
a witch doctor standing inside of a huge pentagram with a ceremonial knife in hand - ready to sacrifice you to some pagan god.

Your gaze wanders over the weapons the Kind One carries. At first you took the weapons for a hunter's tools, but now you suspect they might be used for a more sinister purpose. What if these people are a part of some kind of cult?  
That would probably explain why they hide in the forest and dress so weirdly. But do cults normally kidnap random people?  
  
Cult or not, it's apparent that something _wrong_ is going on here, even if you don't know what yet.  
  
It takes an iron will not to plead with them. You did that before, in the forest, but it made no difference then. You're not sure if they can't understand you or chooses not to communicate. Even so, you're sure that you're not too proud to refrain from crawling at their feet to beg for mercy. Language barrier or not, there's no mistaking someone begging for their life.  
  
But you don't have to write your obituary yet. They might bring you to someone you can reason with. Someone who might take pity on you.  
Is it vain to want to believe that the leader of this bewitching place harbours a kind heart? Probably. But that hope makes breathing easier.

Guards are standing watch as your group approaches and they're as fiercely dressed as the men that met you outside the blue gate.  
All of them are covered in armour to the point where the person underneath is all but hidden; and they're all equally tall and of similar build, giving the impression of having been made from the same mould.  
Armed to their teeth, they're holding a very long spear pointing straight into the air in one hand, and in the other; gripping a shield.  
  
As you pass the first of the guards on the dais, your breath hitches as you can now clearly see what you could only steal glimpses of before.  
The huge antlers in front of you are revealed to be attached - not to an altar - but to what appear to be a chair carved out of the trunk of a tree. And that chair is elevated over the dais to the point where you have to crane your neck to see the occupant. And when you do...  
  
You’ve never seen anyone like him before. 

 

************  
  
  
  


The man's at least as tall as the guards, if not taller, and of a slender build. Every item of clothing is luxurious; from the knee high boots  
of soft leather to the ring-dressed hand languorously resting on fine, colourful fabric draped over the chair, the expensive-looking stones glistening at the smallest movement.

He’s dressed in a long, formfitting jacket of silver-grey with gold woven in, the fabric shimmering like a jewel when catching the light.  
He's sporting a high collar open at the throat in a modest V-neckline, teasing only a glimpse of skin. The jacket is slit open at his hips, revealing dark tight-fitting pants underneath, showing off his well-defined legs.  
A broche of silver in the form of a deer with huge, sprawling antlers is fastened on his chest, and it would probably look gaudy on any other person, but it suits him well.  
  
A crown of red berries and autumn leaves are resting on silver-gold hair flowing down like silk over his shoulders and chest. His skin's pale,  
as if he never sees the sun, and for a brief moment you contemplate that he might be a vampire, until you realize how ridiculous that is.  
He should've looked feminine and perhaps even tacky, but instead he looks stunning. His features are sharp and elegant and definitely _male_. 

Seated on the hard wood as comfortable as if it's made out of pillows, his eyes follows your small group as you stop at a respectable distance. The Ungentle One speaks and you quickly lower your gaze hoping not to attract unwanted attention, but you can't help yourself as you slowly work your way back up and you watch the new stranger through your eyelashes.  
  
Eyes of shifting grey to pale blue searches your face but you stubbornly refuse to meet them. Above his magnetic gaze there's dark eyebrows stroked with silver, now slightly furrowed. 

The man answers the Ungentle One in an unhurried pace, almost nonchalantly. Even though you don't understand the words, there's no mistaking the fact that it's a command and he clearly expects to be obeyed. The men who brought you here bow in front of the stranger and leaves. You almost want to run after them, but stifle your anxiety.  
  
Looking down at you from his high-vantage point, he's the epitome of refinement and pride. He's obviously the leader; the men treat him with such deference. And that's when it hits you; he's not sitting in a chair, but on a _throne_.  
  
The man looks at you with a disinterested expression on his face, but his eyes are a whirlwind trying to trap your gaze.  
He says something in a quizzical tone directed towards you but you've no idea what he's asking. He notices your bewilderment and changes  
the song of the words to speak the question anew in another language. But you still don’t understand him.  
  
“You are not of the woodmen," he asserts. "Who are you?”  
  
_Finally! Someone you can talk to!_  
  
Shock and relief washes over you as he speaks your language. If you can just reason with him, explain that there must've been a mistake;  
he might just let you go.  
The emotions must've registered on your face and he quickly caught on to the fact that you understood his question.  
  
“You speak the shore-language.”  
  
You frown at his statement, unsure why he calls it that. But as his intense stare are burning through you as if he can see your very soul,  
you don't dare question him.  
  
“Y-yes,” you stutter.  
  
Eyes scanning you from top to bottom slowly as if wanting to take in every detail, you fight the impulse to cross your arms over your chest, blushing at your dishevelled and dirty appearance after having been dragged through the forest.  
  
His voice's calm when he speaks, but there's still sharpness underneath. “Why are you trespassing in my kingdom?”  
  
Trespassing? You swallow. “I-I…I didn’t mean… I’m not supposed to be here.”  
  
“Oh?” He says, tone unchanged. “And where are you supposed to be?”  
  
You're trying to answer, but your tongue is tied and you can't manage even a simple sound. It feels like minutes passes by with glacial speed before he speaks again.  
  
“Amroth informed me that you were found alone."  
  
Amroth? Is that the name of the Ungentle One? That's the one he spoke with before, so you guess so. Is it a good thing that your kidnappers give out their names like that?  
  
Probably not.  
  
He makes an indifferent gesture; "Found with no belongings on your person. Not even provisions. Where are your companions?”  
  
"Companions?"  
  
“You did not travel to this place alone." He gives your appearance another glance. "Not without an escort. And not without provision.”  
  
“I-I… there’s no one else." Oh my god. Is that why they kidnapped you? They're looking for someone else and suspect that you came here with them? "I was on the bus, and then it… it just… disappeared.”  
  
He raises an eyebrow condescendingly. “Disappeared?”  
  
When you don't offer anything more, he instead asks; "What is 'the bus'?”  
  
Eyes almost popping out of your head, you stammer; "It... it's like... like a ... a car." When he's silent as if waiting for an answer without showing a hint of understanding, you continue carefully; “It’s a way of transportation. To go from one place to the other.”  
  
You’re not sure if he’s messing with you or if he really doesn’t know, but the sight of the heavily armed guards makes your decision to humour him an easy one. You'd rather not be impaled by a spear.  
  
Without missing a beat he probes you further; “To where will your journey take you?”  
  
“To... well, to my job.”  
  
A split second it almost looks like he frowns but then his expression's smooth again. “Job?”  
  
Is... is he serious? Doesn't he know what a job is? Or is he asking where you work? Somehow you can tell it's the former and not the latter.  
  
“The place I work at.”  
  
He leans back, drumming a hand on the armrest. “And what is your occupation?”  
  
If he doesn't know what a job or bus is, he's probably not going to understand the concept of a fast-food restaurant, so you're trying to find some simple way to explain it.  
  
“I… I give people food. To eat.”  
  
“You are a simple cook then?”  
  
Though he doesn't sound disbelieving, you can feel it in the air. He doesn't trust you. _Right back at ya._  
  
“No, I.. I don’t make the food,” you clarify. “People pay me to give them food.”  
  
“Ah, a businesswoman,” he exclaims. “That I am more acquainted with amongst you humans. Are you here to conduct business?”  
  
Though he's not exactly right, you've no intention of correcting him. You don't want to explain the soul-sucking job in detail.  
But how are you going to explain ending up here when you don't know yourself?  
You’re thinking at a hundred miles a hour. You should be careful. The wrong answer might lead to torture and death.  
  
“Errmm... yeah. I was on my way to... _conduct business_ ," you answer slowly, "but something happened and I wo-“you immediately change the words “woke up” and end with “- wound up here.”  
  
“Is that so?” His facial expression turns bored, as if a new shiny toy turned out to be a disappointment. "You lie. Like many of your kind.”  
  
You can’t make your mouth form words anymore, the fear's too strong.  
  
"You are trespassing on my lands and I will have the truth of it from you." He nods towards the guards and two of them break free from their positions to take hold of you.  
  
"I am patient," he says, "I can wait." His voice's little more than a whisper as you're hauled away, but the threat’s clear.  
  
"A year... a decade. It matters little to an elf." 

 

 

 

************  
  
  


  



	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

With a firm hand you're pushed inside a small room. Not wanting to anger the armed guards positioned behind you, you quickly walk forward without a word of protest. Expecting there to be a stair or something leading on, you're surprised when met with a solid stone wall.  
Whipping around to see a door slammed shut in front of you, you don't even have time to be afraid before the guards are out of sight.

The 'room' you're in, is hardly wide enough to hold two people standing shoulder-to-shoulder, but it's quite deep. And although you can't be sure without asking the architect of this place, the room appears more like a very small man-made grotto.  
The door consists of thick, rather widely-spaced bars of unbendable dark metal, though it's not wide enough for someone to squeeze through. Pressing your face in-between two of the bars, you feel the metal scrape against the soft skin of your cheeks as you try to take in as much as you can of your surroundings.

You can't see any guards. Have they left?  
  
You can't stay here - waiting for torture and God knows what. Even though you're exhausted and hungry you need to escape now whilst you still have some energy left. And if the guards are gone this might be your only chance for freedom. You must take it!  
  
... Right? _Right_. 

Water's dribbling from the cave ceiling with soft echoing sounds, making splashes as it gently collects into tiny pools on the stone floor.  
It's so damp and glacial down here at the near bottom of the cave it almost hurts to breathe. You can see the steam of your warm breath suffocate as it meets the wall of freezing air.

You sneak out a hand towards the door handle. The hand's visibly shaking even as you form it into a fist in an attempt to steady it. Your breathing's uneven and an inch from the handle your breathing stops completely. At that moment an icy drop hits your exposed neck.  
Audibly gasping, you almost jump out of your skin at the contact. As the cold burns your skin, you're trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart.  
  
_It's only water. Come on. It's nothing to be scared of._  
  
But your inner-voice's not convincing in the least. Trying to supress the fear covering you like a thick blanket, you gather what little courage you can muster. Your terror-filled eyes darts all over the place as your hand inches closer to the door handle again.  


_Rattle. Rattle._  
  
The door is locked.

Deflated you take a couple of steps backwards. Well, they would've been lousy prison-guards if they'd left the cell door unlocked, right?  
So what now? You can't pick a lock or dig your way through the wall of stone. Having never been in any situation even close to this, you don't know what to do. And it's not like someone's coming to save you either. Even if someone reports you missing at work, it's not like they'll ever find you. _You_ don't even know where you are.

Scanning your eyes over the small cell again, you see a low bed to one side, carved directly out of the rock. It's covered with a thin-looking mattress. Are you meant to sleep on that? Or are they just trying to scare you into submission, softening you up before interrogating you?  
It makes sense, you suppose. Isn't that what they're always doing in movies? But it doesn't matter if you know what tricks they're up to, when it's _working_.

Still staring out through your cell door you can see that your cell is not the only one of its kind. There are several more all spread out at different heights; some below you and some above. Are there more people trapped here?  
You listen intently but don't hear anything except water dripping. Maybe they're sleeping? You've lost all track of time but it might be in the middle of the night by now. Either way, you're beyond exhausted.  
  
Your back's hurting just by looking at the poor excuse for a bed, but you've been walking for hours and your feet can't take anymore abuse. Slightly reluctant, you sit down. The moisture of the mattress quickly seeps through your clothes and you hop up from the bed as if it bit you. Half-turning your upper-body, you see a wet patch spread all over your backside. _Yuck. That's disgusting._  
Stupidly you try to minimize the damage by brushing a hand over the spot repeatedly, but of course it does nothing.  
  
_Damn it. Can this get any worse?_  
  
And at that precise moment you need to pee. Again looking around, to see if you perhaps missed a toilette, you realize to your horror that there's not even a pot left in the cell for you.  
Maybe you can hold it in for a bit longer? But it's doubtful. You've been holding it in for hours and now when your body's finally starting to relax after being tense for so long, the need's urgent.  
  
You press your face against the bars again. "Hello?" Your voice's low, as if afraid of making too much sound.  
  
There's no answer so you raise your voice and try again; "Hello? Is someone there?"  
  
Still no answer.  
  
So what, they've just left you here? Not even going to watch over you? _They probably know it's impossible to escape._  
  
Great. That's just... great.  
  
Glancing over to a corner of the cell, you wrinkle your nose. You've never been the one to go camping and see to your needs out in the wild. You've lived your whole life in the city, where there's always been a restroom close by.  
  
This is going to be so gross. 

 

************  
  


  
_Later_

 

A loud rumble from your stomach as it groans with hunger. Although you don't have a watch, you must've been in here for hours by now.  
And you've not eaten for a whole day, if not longer. Are they going to starve you? 

At least you've access to water. What's the rule - you can survive three weeks without food but you can only survive three days without water?  
If it's true or not, you don't know. But at least you can starve for about three weeks before dying. _That's good to know._

Two fingers rubbing your temples on each side, you're trying to ease the mounting headache. You'd really like some painkillers right now. Maybe a little water will help?

Cupping your hands together in a 'u' shape, you hold them at strategic places where the water drips from the ceiling. It takes several minutes before there's enough for a mouthful, but you've got nothing but time right now so it doesn't really matter. After drinking several mouthfuls, you're satisfied for the moment.

Although you've avoided it for as long as you can, you finally break down and return to the damp bed. Removing your sweater you use it as a blanket and let your bare shoulder press down into the wet mattress.  
  
You barely stifle a joyless laugh remembering how much you've complained to your friends about how hot your apartment is.  
You always have to crack open a window because the AC works like crap and you mostly sleep without a blanket with a fan blowing straight at you just to get some relief. But now you're shivering, cold, wet and miserable; longing for your too-hot apartment and soft bed.

To keep your mind off of the cold and the hunger you make a few signs with your stiff hands, recalling simple words you picked up some years ago when you dated a guy who had a deaf sister.  
But the signs die away as you zero in on the layers of dirt and grime on your hands. Your fingernails look like you've been playing at being a gardener; all blackened by filth. Even the tiny tattoo on your right wrist is almost covered by mud.

You trace the tattoo with a finger.  
  
You got it about eight years ago with your then best friend. Young, giggling and flirting with the handsome tattoo artist; you had both been excited and full of life and expectations for the future. She had wanted to be a singer and you wanted to travel the world. And there was not one iota of doubt in either one of you that you wouldn't both succeed.  
  
It might've as well been another lifetime ago.  
  
The tattoo's black in colour and looks almost like a very stylized 'M' where the letter ends with a low sharp stroke reminiscent of a scorpion’s tail. Fitting, since it's the symbol of the star sign you were born under.  
It's silly really. You don't even believe in star signs. But she'd gotten hers; a Capricorn and you'd gotten yours. Every time you look at it, it reminds you of a simpler time. When you were happy.  
  
Another rumble from your stomach.  
  
Oh, you're having some serious cravings for a pizza. The mere thought of that thick pizza crust covered with tomato sauce with melted cheese on top, fresh mushrooms and spicy pepperoni makes your mouth water. You can just imagine the grease dripping from the pizza slice down your chin as you bite into it, the flavour exploding in your mouth. 

At that very thought, you hear a faint sound. Immediately you stiffen. What is that - rats? Or is someone coming?

Unsure if you should scramble off the bed or pretend to sleep, you just lie there, quiet and very still as an unfamiliar face appears.  
The man bends down and you can hear him putting something on the ground. He speaks a few words and leaves.  
You've no idea what he said but when he's gone, you peek over the edge of the bed and see _food_.

There's a steaming hot bowl of a porridge of some kind; white, thick and grainy; and golden-brown bread wrapped in a napkin made of a huge green leaf. You're not fond of bread so you throw yourself over the porridge, burning your tongue in the process.

It actually doesn't taste like porridge, it's more like a mixture of coconut and cinnamon and maybe a little vanilla. It's almost like a desert.  
You wrap the bread-in-leaf in your sweater, intending to save it for later. It's better not to take anything for granted from these people. And that includes food.  


Eyes heavy and yawning uncontrollable, you return to your former position in bed. Although you're shaking from the cold, it takes only a few seconds for sleep to overtake you. Asleep, you dream. But even in your dreams, you're not free.  
Instead your mind's invaded by a man with haunting eyes of shifting grey to pale blue. Eyes that seem to strip you bare to your very core. 

And you just _know_ that you haven't seen the last of him.

 

 

 

************  
  
  


  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being so slow with the updates. It's been chaos at home and _everywhere_ right now. As I'm sure you all know.
> 
> I hope you all stay safe and healthy in these strange times.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **************************

_Sometime later_  

 

If anyone had asked you - just a few days back - what you thought your primary emotion would be if you'd been kidnapped, you'd never have thought it would be boredom. You're so, _so_ bored.  
It's like sitting and waiting for the bus all alone and with no book, friendly conversation or phone to kill the time. You're just waiting and waiting for that damn bus. It's driving you up the wall.

No one's been back yet to give you more food and you're glad that you saved the bread-in-leaf. Walking back and forth in your cramped cell, you eat tiny, tiny pieces of it, making sure to ration it for as long as you can.  
The golden-brown bread has the texture of a sponge cake and the taste's so foreign, there's nothing you can compare it to. Not that you're a connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination; you've practically been raised on junk food and rarely use the old stove sat in your apartment, preferring the microwave instead.

This is getting ridiculous. You're spending your time thinking about bread. **Bread.** That's how bored you are. 

And it's not helpful that there's no way for you to keep track of time, seeing as there's no difference between day and night. No matter if the cave has a roof or not, the cell is obviously too far down and tucked away for any natural daylight to reach you.  
There's only the faint glow of lamps hidden away from your view and therefore you can't know for certain if days have passed or merely hours.  
  
For the first time in your life, you're cursing the fact that you don't wear a watch. You've always preferred to use your mobile phone instead, but unfortunately your bag didn't get magically teleported with you.

It's odd. The boredom struggles with the fear of death looming over your head. When you hear a sound that you mistake for footsteps, your breath hitches and you mentally beg to be left alone, beg that no one will show up and drag you out to torture and certain death.  
But on the other hand, you're also terrified of being forgotten down here, left for weeks or months even. Starving. Fading away bit by bit, until there's nothing left but skin and bone.  
  
You don't want to think about either scenarios, but you can't help it. There's nothing distracting you from going back to those dark places in your mind. And you don't know which fate is worse.

You come to an abrupt halt in the middle of your cell - which is also coincidentally the beginning and the end of your small cell - and frustrated kick the wall, immediately regretting it when the pain shoots up your icy-cold foot.  
The foot pulsates from the assault and you bend over in a fog of pain, using the most colourful swear words in your vocabulary.  
  
_Yeah, okay, that was a bad idea._

Gently, you remove your sneaker and sweat-soaked sock and rub the aching part of your foot, trying to both soothe the hurt and bring some warmth. Your movements are awkward. Your fingers aren't at all willing to obey you, they're red and frozen from the cold and you're starting to lose feeling in your pinkies. That's what makes you spring into action.  
  
At first you do a couple of wobbly jumps up and down, followed by a dozen bending down and jumping up into the air. If anyone saw you they'd probably think you're insane - exercising in your prison cell.  
It doesn't take much for your untrained self to warm up, the blood flow increasing with every motion. You stop before sweat starts to break out, because you'll be a lot colder afterwards if you sweat and allow it to cool.  
  
You're definitely going to get a cold staying here. Though that's probably going to be the least of your problems, it's still nothing you'd want to experience where you don't have access to pain-killers, tissues and coffee.  
Oh, you could go for some coffee right now. You usually only drink it in the mornings to get a kick-start, and maybe once or twice during your shift if it's a long one. But you'd drink almost anything right now if it's warm. You've never been this cold for so long in your whole life.

 

 

************  
  


  


 

_Why am I here?_

The thought pops up in your mind now and again. It's so frustrating because you've no answer. The man with the grey eyes - you hesitate to think of him as king because it's just too intimidating - haunts your dreams when you sleep.  
You can almost hear his voice in the water dripping from the ceiling, and nearly glimpse his shadow in the corners of your eyes until you turn around to see nothing. You're going mad, aren't you?

 _He_ seems to think you came here together with other people. Who? You try to remember everything he said; see if you can find any clue to your predicament. At that time, standing in front of him, you'd been so scared that his words didn't really sink in.  
Except of course him not knowing what a bus is. Or a job. Trying to picture him working 9-5 in some stuffy office somewhere almost makes you snort. Okay, so maybe you'll give him a pass on the 'job' part. 

So what's his deal? Even if he's been brought up far from any town or city, how can he be ignorant about modern things? He must've been to a doctor or seen an airplane in the sky or even met other people, right? Has he never been to school?  
  
_No, of course not, stupid._  
  
Members of a sect needs to be controlled and kept in check, which you manage easiest by keeping them ignorant. So no Internet, no phones, no contact with the outside. They probably have their own doctor and their own little classroom.  
Maybe the stranger knows what a bus and job is, but played ignorant in front of the guards? Because he didn't seem crazy or simple. On the contrary, he seemed very intelligent.  
  
Going over the short conversation you had with him in your head, you remember something. He called you _human_ , didn't he? Well, he's not wrong, obviously, but why call you that unless ... he's not.  
You bite your lip irritated. He's _not_ a vampire. There's no such thing. He probably said it to get inside your head. The sect might worship him as some kind of God and he plays into it. There! An explanation. No need to dwell on every little word he spewed.

A couple of strands of hair fall down your face and you push it back with your hand. You try to undo some knots in the tangled mess, but quickly give up. You need water and a good brush. Better leave it alone so you don't make it worse.  
Stretching your arms over your head, every inch of your body aching, you catch a whiff of a foul stench from your armpits. Oh my God, you _stink_. Sweat and dirt is clinging to your body like a repulsive lotion.  
  
You've never gone this long without a shower and feel disgusting. Did you smell this bad when the men brought you here? Your cheeks burn at the thought. But why should you feel bad? These people has stripped you off your dignity, locked you up and treated you as someone even lower than the fast food-slave you where before. What gives them the right to do this? Embarrassment is replaced by anger.  
  
Wanna bet _he_ doesn't stink. Oh no, be probably smells really nice, like roses. Being pampered all day, sitting on his ass in that chair or throne or whatever. Not that you care what he does or what he smells like. Next time you see him, you'll give him a piece of your mind. Oh how you wished you'd done that immediately!

Pumped up with fiery rage at your mistreatment, blood boiling, you don't hear the soft footsteps. When a face suddenly pops up in front of the bars of the cell, you almost scream aloud in surprise.  
It's the same man that gave you food before but this time his hands are empty. He opens the door, steps to the side and holds it open. Every ounce of anger is drained from you and the all familiar fear comes crawling back.

_This is it._

 

 

************  
  


  


 


End file.
